


Moon Signs

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Best Friends, Bromance, F/M, James Loves Astrology, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21836560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: A vignette look at the friendship between Sirius Black and James Potter from their first meeting on the Hogwarts Express.
Relationships: Sirius Black & James Potter, background James Potter/Lily Evans, background Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	Moon Signs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pronunciation_Hermy_One](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pronunciation_Hermy_One/gifts).



> To Pronunciation_Hermy_One, a rock that keeps me from blowing in the wind. Happy Christmas and birthday, best friend. <3

**_Hogwarts Express, 1 September 1971_ **

“Is this compartment empty?”

“Well  _ I'm _ here, aren’t I?”

“Specky git.”

A big grin crawled up the young wizard’s face as Sirius took a seat across from him. He searched through his bulky, pressed robes and withdrew a chocolate frog packet and ripped the foil with his teeth like the rabid dog his mother always claimed he was.

As the dark amphibian leaped from its confine, the specky boy across from him caught it mid air. His eyes were hazel and sparkling with triumph as he bit into the little bugger’s head.

“Go on, then. Who’d you get?” He prompted Sirius, chewing in the most insufferably common sort of way.

Sirius withdrew a small card from the packet and scoffed as he tossed the card to his compartment mate. “Dumbledore again. Have about a dozen of him at home.”

“Mmhm,” the specky boy agreed. “I’m after Wendelin the Weird myself.”

“There’re almost none of those,” Sirius said, impressed at his ambition. Likely a future Slytherin, then. He sighed, shoulders sagging, and kicked his dragon hide boots onto the open seat at his side. “Who’s your family?”

The boy’s wire rimmed glasses slid down his nose. He wore a disapproving frown as he surveyed Sirius rather severely. “Does that matter?”

Sirius shrugged and closed his eyes. “I’d not like to share a compartment with a Malfoy if I can help it. But you’re not blond and you’re not pointy.”

“Potter,” he said proudly, and smacked the back of his hand against Sirius’ chest which prompted him to crack an eye open. The boy shoved his hand into his and shook firmly. “James Potter.”

“A Potter, then,” Sirius said, trying to place the surname amongst all he’d been taught prior. His face must have been insulting, because James crossed his arms and raised his chin high.

“I’m not ashamed of my house.”

Sirius cocked an eyebrow, a small smile on his lips. “What does  _ that _ feel like?”

**_The Great Hall, 31 October 1972_ **

“It’s six in the bloody morning,” Sirius grumbled, stifling an exaggerated yawn behind his hand and plopping himself down at the Gryffindor table. “What could possibly so important? Pass the coffee.”

Mother never let him have coffee, but Sirius found quite quickly that being friends with James Potter required a jolt to the mind first thing in the morning. Otherwise, he was insufferable.

James, looking far too bright eyed and bushy tailed, handed Sirius a steaming cup of black coffee and then piled his own plate high with all the worst foods from the assortment laid out for them.

“It’s tradition,”James said as if that explained why he was up before the sun. He shoved a sausage in his mouth and then spoke around it as his teeth gnashed. “Best day of the year, Halloween.”

Sirius sipped his coffee and winced at its potency. Bitter, just like him. “I hate Halloween. It’s a stupid excuse for dressing like a prat.”

James laughed, a full from the belly sound that had the entirety of the Great Hall staring in their direction. “Forget the costumes, Black. Today’s about the dead! I already talked to Sir Nicholas and he’s agreed to host us at his Death Day party on the third floor.”

“Why would you want to do that?” Sirius asked with his eyebrows raised high. “They’re just a bunch of wizards who are too afraid to move on.”

James set his sausage down onto his plate and pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose with his index finger. “Mum says they’re wizards with the courage to stay when everyone else leaves.”

Sirius pursed his lips and finished his coffee without another word.

**_The Room of Requirement, 24 December 1973_ **

“Happy Christmas, indeed.”

James sat with his arms folded across his chest, his boots kicked up on a slim wooden table that ran parallel from the sofa he was perched on. His eyes were cast upon Sirius, dark and moody, as he watched him pace around the small room. Sirius could feel James’ unwavering glare as he stalked the length of the floor. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and his face was pinched with anger.

“You didn’t want to go home,” James said, the sting of snark trailing after Sirius as he turned to stare at his friend. “Mum and dad don’t mind that I stayed. They’re off to Majorca. Everyone’s happy.”

“Everyone except me.” Sirius huffed and threw himself into a nearby armchair. “I don’t need you to babysit me, Potter. I’m perfectly capable of keeping myself entertained.”

James snorted and ran a hand through his floppy, dark hair. “If you call ‘brooding about the castle and annoying Peeves’ entertaining.”

Sirius’ eyes narrowed at his specky git of a best mate. “Indeed. Beats sitting alone in a room with a joyful specky git for company.”

His friend stood suddenly, hands on his hips. “Fine then. If that’s how you feel, enjoy your doom and gloom Christmas, you prat.”

It wasn’t until the door slammed that Sirius realized he’d wanted James there all along. He ran his hands over his face, scrubbing hard until stars burst behind his eyes. It was probably better this way, anyway. He pulled a small, red envelope from his pocket and opened it to read for the hundredth time that day.

_ You can’t hide forever, Sirius. He expects your presence over the summer or so help me, Circe, I’ll blast you from the tapestry and remove your name as heir. _

At least the howler charm had worn off.

**_The Three Broomsticks, 2 November 1974_ **

“The moon’s in Gemini,” James said, as if that explained anything at all. He sipped his butterbeer and had a foam mustache, and Sirius wanted nothing more than to toss a napkin at his face. He seemed to note Sirius’ skeptical eye and sighed heavily as if Sirius should have known what he’d been blathering on about all along. “He may actually talk to us this time.”

Sirius leaned back in his seat and gripped hard around his frothy mug of butterbeer. “Remus doesn’t want to talk about it. It’s not like being —  _ that _ — is easy. Surely we can’t be the only ones who’ve noticed that he’s gone around the full moon, and he’s in the infirmary again today.”

“Were—”

Sirius cut his gaze to James sharply. James coughed, looking properly admonished.

“His furry little problem,” he whispered, throwing a knowing look to Sirius, “is a large part of who he is. We can’t let him feel so alone with that.”

“What do you propose we do about it then?” Merlin, he wished that firewhiskey was appropriate for a young teenaged wizard to drink in the middle of a pub filled with his professors.

James grinned. A wide, ridiculous thing that had Sirius sitting up straighter in his chair out of sheer interest that, perhaps, his fourth year was about to get more interesting. His friend leaned over the table, hazel eyes sparkling mischievously.

“I’m glad you asked.”

“That makes one of us,” Sirius muttered, though he’d never admit the thrill that shot through him.

**_The Forbidden Forest, 5 May 1976_ **

The most he’d managed was a bit of shaggy hair that sprouted from his chest. James was no better, prancing around the forest bed with stubby horns atop his head. Pete, the poor sod, couldn’t even pop a tail. Clearly, they weren’t cut out for the animagus life. Not that James would allow them to believe it.

“We just need more time. Full moon is less than a fortnight away. We’re almost there.” James screwed up his face as if that was going to force a full set of antlers from the top of his head. It didn’t, and Sirius plopped himself onto the ground. “C’mon, Sirius. We  _ can _ do this. You’re obviously starting to transform. That’s new hair—”

“Fur,” Sirius corrected him petulantly, grabbing a handful of grass in his hands and ripping it from the earth. “It’s not  _ hair _ . It’s thicker… like a coat.”

James smile as if he’d won something. “Right, see. We’re close, since wizards don’t typically grow  _ fur _ . We can’t give up, not when we’re this close.”

“Your unending optimism is a real mood killer, Potter.” Sirius pushed himself up from the ground and brushed his dirty hands on his jeans. “Alright. Give me the incantation one more time.”

“Amato Animo Animato Animagus,” James said, enunciating the words carefully.

Sirius closed his eyes and tilted his chin to the waxing moon. He whispered the incantation carefully and felt his magic swathe him like a blanket. When he opened his eyes, he was staring up at a massive stag with wide, hazel eyes.

_ Sweet Circe, _ he thought,  _ we’ve done it. _

Which was almost true. Both wizards sat quietly in the middle of the Forbidden Forest — each only half of the animal they were destined to become — staring at one another with a sense of wonder and awe.

**_Empty Classroom, 31 October 1976_ **

“You’re in love with him.”

The planes of Sirius’ throat constricted. Dry, aching, and tense against his fluttering pulse. He cast his eyes down to his boots and nodded.

“Have been as long as I can remember,” he said after a time, through thin and pale lips.

“Why won’t you tell him?”

He met the hazel eyes staring at him, wide and innocent and positively confunded. “Because I’m not like you, Prongs. I can’t just  _ tell _ him how I feel the way you shout at Evans every bloody day of the week.”

James’ lips twitched and he whipped a hand through his hair. “Not  _ every _ day, Padfoot. Only the ones that end in ‘ _ y _ ’.” The cheeky smile that followed was insufferable, and Sirius had to double down to keep his mouth straight.

“I’m not good at all this feelings lark, alright?” Sirius plucked at a thread that had come loose on the cuff of his robes. “I’m a Black. We’re naturally nihilistic and trite.”

“Bullshit.” James shook his head and advanced on Sirius so quickly he couldn’t get away. His hands were on Sirius’ shoulders and those stupidly earnest Potter eyes captured him. “I’m your best mate,  _ mate _ . I know how deeply you feel.”

Sirius broke his hold and backed away. “Just — piss off, Prongs. It’s none of your business.”

“I love  _ you _ , you know?” James’ smile was a simple, wistful thing. Still, Sirius felt his stomach clench under the weight of his words. “I’m not too proud to admit it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sirius waved him off and turned from James with a sigh.

**_The Black Lake, 01 June 1978_ **

“That’s frightening.”

“And it  _ hasn’t _ been all year watching you with that badge, snogging Evans in every alcove?” Sirius raised a single brow, but couldn’t squash the grin that overtook his face.

“That’s different,” James argued, his lips twitching at the corners. “I’m naturally—” he indicated to his person, unkempt and rumpled but alight with an energy indicative of happiness. “ _ This. _ And you, dearest Pads, are almost never  _ that. _ ”

“Moony and I are getting a flat in Diagon,” he admitted, cutting his lip with his teeth. “Proper giving this a go.”

James beamed. Sirius knew the words before they even left his mouth. “Told you so.”

“Don’t ruin it.” It was half hearted at best as he watched Remus and Pete approach. The castle behind them seemed so small now that he was leaving it.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” James whispered, aiming a wand at Pete and flicking the poor sod’s tie to fly away in the wind.

“Such a specky git,” Sirius muttered, the breath of a laugh on his lips as Remus took them against his own.

**_Potter Cottage, 31 October 1981_ **

“The moon is in Sagittarius,” James said, bouncing Harry on his knee. He looked lighter than he had in so long, and Sirius felt his chest tighten.

“What is it now, Prongs? A new chance at happiness?” Sirius scoffed, mind flickering to the last, angry image he had of Remus leaving their flat. “Perhaps I’ll get mauled by a werewolf when I return home?”

James shook his head, hair falling into his bespectacled eyes. “You have the freedom to roam, mate.”

His heart contracted, stomach roiling at the thought of freedom. “I don’t think so. Not even supposed to be here today.”

“It’s Halloween,” James argued, setting Harry down onto the floor where the little hellion stole off at a run and screeched while chasing the cat.

“It’s tradition,” Sirius said as the words left James’ mouth.

They stared at one another, neither speaking of the darkness that settled over them. James forced a smile and Sirius, swallowing down his pain, returned it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” James stood as Lily entered the room with Harry on her hip. Sirius nodded his head at her, and she rewarded him with that soft, Lily Evans-Potter smile. “We can’t take Harry out tonight, obviously, but Dumbledore said it’s almost over. We can plan how to win Remus back when he returns from Romania.”

“Yeah.” Sirius pulled James into a loose embrace and clapped him on the shoulder. “Tomorrow then.”

**_Solitary Confinement, 15 November 1981_ **

Striped robes covered his entire person. Tattooed onto his arm in magical, black ink was ᛈᛉ-390: the number that would define him for the rest of his mortal life.

“Mister Black.” Barty Crouch Senior stood in front of the grimy bars that held him prisoner, a blue magpie circling his person. He seemed far too jovial for a man whose son was accused of aiding the dark wizard Voldemort. “I wonder if you’re willing to open up about your fellow Death Eaters, hm?”

“I told you that I’m innocent, Crouch,” Sirius growled, struggling against the bindings that were placed on his body. He didn’t care how deranged he looked; Peter Bloody Pettigrew was getting away with murder — the murder of his best friend.

“Pity, pity.” Crouch rocked on his heels. “Perhaps some time with the dementors will loosen your tongue. They’re very useful — the state we find wizards in after only a fortnight with them—” he made a show of shuddering. “A man without happiness is a man who’s willing to talk.”

At that, Sirius stopped struggling. He fell back against the wet, concrete wall and laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed until his empty belly ached from the contractions.

“What’s so funny?” Crouch demanded, voice echoing around the corridor of the prison.

“You think dementors are a threat to me?” Sirius barked another laugh, humorless. He leveled his dark gaze at Crouch and growled. “I have no happiness to take!”

As Crouch cursed and left, Sirius let his head fall back against the wall.

James was gone. Gone. And he’d never known. Sirius had never said it, not in so many words, and it haunted him. He wasn’t there to protect him, wasn’t there to save him, wasn’t there to do anything at all. James died not knowing, and what was worse, James died possibly believing the worst of him — believing the very things that Sirius had tried to convince him of so often during their friendship.

As the room grew dark and cold and his most horrendous memories swirled around his mind as if circling a drain, Sirius howled. The sound carried all the way to the shores of the North Sea.

**_Little Whinging, 29 August 1993_ **

He was the spitting image of Prongs — raven hair flying every which way, strong jaw of the house Potter, a build for quidditch that would serve the Gryffindor team quite well during his Hogwarts years — but his eyes. He had Lily’s eyes.

Sirius wondered if Harry grew up with James’ sense of humor. If he was quick to smile. If his wit was like the snap of a whip. If he was insightful, always knowing more than he let on. He wondered if Harry was as good a friend as James always was.

Sirius lifted his eyes to the sky. The moon was in Aquarius, but without James there, he had absolutely no idea what it meant. With his luck, it meant he’d be roadkill by the end of the night.

The young wizard strode through the lane with a trunk scraping over the pavement. A snowy white owl hooted in her cage as he dragged her through the night. His wand was lit with a Lumos and Sirius watched from the shadows as he huffed and puffed his anger, muttering incoherent words.

Decidedly not James in spirit, Sirius decided with a soft bark. It drew the boy’s attention and he knew it was now or never — see him, meet him, be there for him.

A crack in the middle of the street sent Sirius skittering back into the shadows. The Knight Bus slid across the pavement, and then Harry was gone.

**_Beyond, 18 June 1996_ **

“Stop fretting.”

A slender, pale hand dotted with freckles rested against his arm and James looked up to her striking green eyes. She smiled at him and James couldn’t help returning it.

“It’s been so long, Lily,” he said, his voice jumping much like his heart. “What if … what if it’s not the same?”

“Since when has Sirius ever let you down?” Lily asked, and then she was gone. Vanished, leaving James alone in a place that reminded him of the Hogwarts Express compartment that James had first met Sirius in.

It was true; he’d never let James down. Not once. In fact, what James had always expected of Sirius was blown out of the water as James watched, enraptured, as his best mate went through hell and back to save Harry. The pride that swelled in his chest was electric and he couldn’t wait to show his proper gratitude.

A tall, thin figure popped into the compartment. Cloaked in a long, dark robe that covered the many tattoos and scars that James had watched him accumulate over the years. They stood opposite one another, staring.

Sirius cracked first, voice hoarse and so much older now. “Is this compartment empty?”

“Well  _ I'm _ here, aren’t I?”

“Specky git.”

James grinned and tossed a chocolate frog card to the wizard as he kicked his dragon hide boots onto the seat. “Who’d you get?”

Sirius ripped the foil off the packet with his teeth and watched as the frog leaped through the air and was caught mid-jump by James. He swallowed, the planes of his throat constricting and his adam’s apple bobbed slowly.

“James Potter,” Sirius whispered as he brought his misty eyes to James, who chewed on the frog’s head around a smile.

“Mm, I’ve got about a dozen of him at home,” James said as Sirius pocketed the card in his cloak and blinked back at him. “Never did find Wendelin the Weird, though.”

Sirius breathed harshly, and James could have mistook it for a laugh. He reached into another pocket and then tossed a card into his outstretched hand. “Had to feed Moony about a hundred chocolate frogs for that.”

James’ entire being lit from the inside. He grinned and shoved the card into his pocket.

“The moon is in Cancer,” he said after a few silent moments.

Sirius sighed, eyes rolling to the ceiling. “What’s that, then? I’m facing a perilous end? Bit late for that warning, Prongs—”

James stood and grabbed onto Sirius’ hand, hauling him to his feet. He wrapped his arms around him and held too tight. Possibly for the first time in James’ existence, he felt Sirius’ hug him back. His warm breath jetted out, teardrops falling against his neck.

“No, you prat.” James held him closer, impossibly tighter. “It’s time to feel safe with your family at your side.”


End file.
